Blessed
by Lady Akemi
Summary: All we know from the series is that Queen Katrina was Milliardo and Relena's mother. This fic attempts to get into her head and explain some of the history of Cinc. There is some Milliardo cuteness and Noin makes a cameo, but the tone is pretty angsty.


Ok folks sit back and get comfortable. This one is reeeeally long. I'm sorry-I know it may be a pain to read-but I think you'll enjoy it. Please review-I really liked writing this fic, and I think that in many ways it's my best one yet.   
  
------------  
  
As it did each morning, a light tapping on the bedroom door roused Katrina and her husband. With a mumbled complaint the young queen rolled over and drew her feather pillow down to cover her head. Beside her, his highness Nathaniel Peacecraft, king of Cinc, halfheartedly threw an extraneous pillow towards the door, then scrunched down beside his mate.   
  
"What time is it?" he asked softly. His tenor voice was pleasantly soothing, despite the fact that he sounded as though he'd just swallowed a frog.  
  
"Too early."  
  
The sound of the door opening made Katrina scowl beneath her pillow.  
  
"Pagan, I think we'll forego breakfast this morning. Just wake us in an hour, would you?" Nathaniel sounded so tired. Katrina wondered fuzzily when this whole affair with the alliance would be over, so they could return to the relatively stress-free life they had led before. In her state of semi-consciousness, such an expectation seemed perfectly logical.   
  
The middle-aged butler cleared his throat delicately. "Foregive me Sir, but there is a call from Senator Darlian. He seems quite concerned." Though Pagan's voice remained neutral, there was no mistaking the note of urgency in his tone.  
  
Sitting up with a stifled groan, Nathaniel reached for the portable comlink on his bedside table. Katrina moved the pillow so that she could prop herself up on it and her elbows. Curling her small body slightly she was able to remain lying almost perfectly flat while surveying her husband's face as he took the call. Glancing briefly at the antique clock mounted on the far wall, she was startled to discover that it was only half past two in the morning. No wonder they were both so tired-last nights round of meetings had lasted until nearly eleven. Pagan also looked thoroughly exhausted. Poor man, he'd probably just gotten to bed.   
  
When he noticed her eyeing him, Pagan bowed and withdrew, softly shutting the door behind him. Katrina stifled a giggle at the sight of the stately manservant shuffling about in his robe and a pair of velvet bedroom slippers.   
  
"John, what's going on?" Nathaniel's voice was level, but there could be no doubt that he was worried.   
Katrina sighed. Nathaniel and John had been friends Cince childhood. During her first visit to the Cinc kingdom some eighteen years earlier, the two inately mischevious boys had warmly accepted her into all their games. A smile touched the queen's lips at the memory of being rescued enumerable times from various and sundry ferocious monsters.   
  
"hmmm...I see. How long?"  
  
The king's jaw had clenched tightly-it was difficult to see, beneath his thick beard, but Katrina knew what to look for. Growing more and more concerned she pushed herself up into a sitting position, crossing her legs under the thick embroidered quilt.   
  
John had fallen in love with her first. Though Katrina would never admit it to Nathaniel, there had been a time when she had seriously considered defying her family, renouncing her birthright and marrying the then sixteen-year-old senatorial aid. But before she had fully made up her mind the proposal from Nathaniel had come, with all the traditional royal pomp, and she had been wise enough to know that, personal feelings aside, she could do more good as the queen of Cinc than as the faceless wife of a senator.   
  
Soon after the announcement of her betrothal Katrina and her mother had been forced to flee their homeland, for fear of an attack by the Alliance. When it finally came, she wept over the knews of her father's death in John's arms. That had been their last night together in the roles of lover and beloved-a week later she had married Nathaniel with dry eyes. John swore at the time that he bore neither of them ill will, and Katrina believed him. Although she sometimes got the impression that he distained the idea of a ruling class, he had been Nathaniel's chief supporter amidst the growing dissension in the Senate over the King's strict maintenance of total pacifism.   
  
"Very well...and John? Good luck. We'll see you in a few minutes." Nathaniel hung up the phone with a deep sigh.   
  
"What's wrong?" Katrina inquired, though she was almost certain she already knew.  
  
"Apparently the Alliance forces at our western border have begun to advance towards New Port City."   
  
Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, Nathaniel turned his back to her and strode over to the large window that filled nearly one whole wall of their chamber. Roughly shoving aside the heavy velvet curtains, he stood for a moment before the glass, his silhouette framed by the moonlight that streamed in through the half-open casement.   
  
Rising slowly, Katrina slid her arms into the sleves of her rose colored dressing gown. It had been a gift from her mother-the last gift Katrina had received from the Dutchess of Evaon before her death. Unable to locate her slippers, the queen padded barefoot over to the window. Standing beside her husband, she too surveyed the beautiful landscape of their kingdom.   
  
"How long?"  
  
"An hour, maybe a little more."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Katrina released it slowly in an attempt to steady her nerves. "What will you do?" she asked, though for the second time that night she was certain she already knew the answer to her own question.   
  
Turning to face her, Nathaniel reached out his left hand. The golden band on the third finger glowed softly in the moonlight.   
  
"I'm sorry for getting you into this, Katrina,"  
  
Unwilling to meet his gaze, the queen accepted Nathaniel's proffered hand but continued to study the view. Moonlight bathed the extensive gardens in an etherial glow while the lush forestland and mountains beyond appeared benignly serene in the semidarkness.   
  
"Never mind that now," she said, careful to keep the deep sadness she felt from expressing itself in her voice. "What are you going to do?"  
  
When he still did not reply, she ventured further. "You know Malcome and Gilbert-any number of the nearby rulers for that matter--would send you aid..."  
  
The remainder of her sentence was choked off as Nathaniel's fist connected with the windowpane, sending a shower of tiny glistening fragments onto the floor and into the garden below.   
  
"Have you learned nothing from being my friend for twenty years, Katrina?"   
  
"Yes!" she exploded, raising her head to look him straight in the eye. "I've learned that total pacifism is an impossible dream!"  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
I get kissed by the sun each morning  
Put my feet on a hardwood floor  
I get to hear my children laughing  
Down the hall through the bedroom door  
  
Katrina leaned back in her chair, allowing the warm summer sunshine to play across her face. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nathaniel regarding her appreciatively. There was certainly something to be said for having a husband who loved her, even if she was unable to return his affection completely. Of course, she was quite fond of the king-they had been friends Cince childhood, after all-and over the five years of their marriage she had become increasingly attached to him. Even so, Katrina knew that her heart was not entirely his.  
  
"You look lovely this morning."  
  
"Only this morning?" she asked with a mock pout, patting the honey colored tresses that were swept up into an elegant yet practical knot at the back of her head.   
  
Nathaniel smiled and took another sip of his coffee, then dabbed at his upper lip with a napkin. It wouldn't do to have coffee stains on his beard. "You know you're always beautiful, Katrina."  
  
Turning her head slightly she gazed out over the wide lawn, with it's rose gardens and merrily splashing fountain. A few peacocks strutted across the well-maintained grass, and if she wasn't mistaken that was Milliardo's kitten perched atop the narrow stone wall that encircled the pond. Doubtless the animal was investigating the prospect of breaking its fast with one of the brightly colored fish that populated the sparkling water.   
  
The entire country mirrored the beauty of the palace and it's grounds. Katrina couldn't help but thank God every day that she'd had the good fortune to become queen of Cinc. Each time she did so an old pain would momentarily tug at her heart, but she had learned over the years of her marriage to dismiss the murmurings of her necessarily dormant adolescent love. There were times when she wished she was able to love Nathaniel fully, and times, mostly late at night when the king was absent that she wished she had been able to wed John Darlian. But in the end, she decided, her mother had been correct-life was not a fairy tale, and one must make the best of one's position.   
  
"What inevitably boring meetings must you be subjected to this morning, Nathaniel?"  
  
The king rolled his eyes, but refrained from smiling. "That's not necessarily the healthiest way of looking at one's royal duties, dear."  
  
"Oh, don't lecture me," Katrina retorted, sitting forward in her chair. A light breeze caused the fine blue gown she wore to billow slightly, and she slapped it back in place while fixing her husband with an irritated frown. "You know as well as I do that eighty five percent of the problems you have to straighten out could be averted if the nobles would consent to talk to one another like rational adults."  
  
Nathaniel picked up his coffee cup again. "I suppose you're right," he said before taking a sip. A brief pause ensued while he swallowed the lukewarm beverage and then replaced the cup in it's saucer. "Still, I'd rather have them burden me with their squabbles than have things get so heated that they threaten military action.   
  
Before Katrina could reply, a well-dressed woman, slightly beyond middle age, emerged onto the balcony. In her arms she held a somewhat sleepy-looking child, whose head of platinum curls never ceased to remind his mother of what Nathaniel's had looked like some fifteen years earlier.  
  
Upon seeing the queen, the little boy held out his small, pajama clad arms. "Mama!"   
  
"Forgive my intrusion, my lady," appologized the older woman, deftly executing a neat courtsey without releasing her hold on the boy. "He seemed to be in rather an ill humor this morning, so I thought you might be able to cheer him up."   
  
Rising swiftly, Katrina lifted her now smiling son out of his nurse's arms. "No need to appologize, Gretchen," she said, smiling fondly down at the woman who was even shorter than she was. "You know I'm always happy to see Milliardo."   
  
Sometimes I sit on my front porch swing  
Just soaking up the day  
I think to myself, I think to myself  
This world is a beautiful place  
  
Pushing back his chair, Nathaniel folded the napkin that had been lying across his lap and set it down beside his empty plate.   
  
"Well, I guess I'll be off...it's going to take me at least an hour to get to Luxenberg."   
  
Still holding her son, Katrina stood on tiptoe and bestowed the obligatory morning kiss upon her husband's cheek.   
  
"I still think you're going out of your way for a bunch of overgrown, overindulged school children," she commented dryly.  
  
Nathaniel frowned but said nothing as he ruffled Milliardo's hair and then left the balcony.   
  
"You know, my lady, you could make his life easier by agreeing with him sometimes."  
  
"Come now, Gretchen," the queen replied, once again seating herself by the table. "He's known me for over fifteen years-he knew exactly what he was getting when he married me."  
  
"Yes, but it's hard enough for him to make the senate see the wisdom of his proposed methods of government. I suspect he'd be a bit happier if his wife, at least, supported him."  
  
"Mama, I'm hungry." The child in Katrina's lap gazed up at her with a coaxing expression that was somewhere between a smile and a pout.   
  
"Here baby-why don't you eat the rest of Mama's toast." Katrina reached over her son's head and retrieved her plate from the table.   
  
"More honey?" inquired the boy, looking at the thinly spread toast and then pointing at a golden bear sitting on the table amidst the clutter of porcelain dishes.   
  
Katrina opened her mouth to agree, only to be forestalled by Gretchen's swifter reply.   
  
"Milliardo Peacecraft, you've already had YOUr honey toast for this morning. You may eat your mother's as it is."  
  
The boy looked as though he wanted to object, but when his mother did not contradict the nurse's edict he reluctantly began to eat what was left on her plate.   
  
"Forgive my interruption, my lady, but he's got enough energy without eating extra sweets."  
  
"I understand-you were just as much of a tyrant when it came to Elizabeth's and my eating habits."  
  
"If I recall correctly, your sister never had quite the sweet tooth you do," responded Gretchen with a fond smile.   
  
"Well, at least Milliardo comes by it honestly. Please sit down, Gretchen-there's no need for you to remain standing like a common maid."  
  
The older woman's thin lips twitched. "When I began working in your father's household, that's precisely what I was, you know."  
  
"Of course I do," replied the queen with a dismissive wave of her hand, "but despite that, when you became our nurse you were more of a mother to us than our real mother was."   
  
Taking a seat on the edge of the chair Nathaniel had just vacated, Gretchen surveyed the queen intently.  
  
"The dutchess was a very busy woman, Katrina. Don't forget that when you were growing up it was all your parents could do to help the king hold their country together."  
  
Katrina sighed. "I haven't forgotten." There was a long pause and then she asked, "Gretchen, be honest with me. Do you think absolute pacifism is a viable foreign policy?"  
  
The older woman regarded her former nursling with a mixture of concern and reproach in her hazel eyes. "My lady, may I remind you that such things are really none of my business?"  
  
"Of course they are," replied the queen, stung. "You're a citizen of this country now, Gretchen-such affairs ought to be of concern to every one of Nathaniel's people."  
  
"I wasn't referring to politics, my lady," Gretchen responded dryly.   
  
"But I-oh, of course. Trust you to overlook the obvious and go right to the heart of the matter."  
Katrina didn't bother attempting to disguise the scowl that distorted her delicate features.  
  
"He doesn't know you disagree, does he?"  
  
"No...at least, I haven't said as much. John and I discussed the whole thing before I married Nathaniel, but he's the only one I've told. Unless he's said something, I doubt the king knows."  
  
"You're sure of that?"  
  
"Of course I am-but how can he possibly not expect me to disagree? My father lost his life and his kingdom supporting the Peacecraft view of total pacifism. It doesn't work, Gretchen...and I-" She broke off, distractedly stroking her son's glossy locks. The boy had finished his tost, and was busily attempting to reach for a butterfly that was hovering above one of the potted plants set along the balcony rail. Removing the empty plate from his sticky grasp, Katrina set Milliardo down on the floor.   
  
"Careful, darling," she admonished, as the boy ran headlong toward the rail. Much to the child's disappointment, the butterfly evaded his clutching fingers and drifted away on the breeze.   
  
"The butterfly's all gone, Mama." Reported Milliardo, looking crestfallen.  
  
"Yes...all gone." Katrina waited until her son had begun to occupy himself by crawling under the table, then turned back to Gretchen.  
  
"Do you think I'm being selfish?"  
  
"Yes, in a way, but I can understand."   
  
"It's just that-well, you know I don't love him...at least, not like that. If I did, perhaps it would be easier for me to support him, even if it was merely an act. Gretchen, I'd love it if total pacifism could eliminate wars, but I just don't think it can."  
  
"You've managed to fool the public, my lady, but in all honesty I doubt you've fooled King Nathaniel."  
  
"When we were children-and even before we were married-I never really had an opinion on the matter. Life was just too delightful to worry about such things. Sometimes I wonder if that's why he fell in love with me...maybe he thought that Cince my life had been so easy it wouldn't be hard to convince me that people were basically good, and that they could be made to cease fighting by a strong pacifist model. He might have been successful, too. Up until father died I might very well have accepted his views."  
  
"You're right, except for one very important detail." Replied the nurse, reaching across the small table to touch Katrina's shoulder. "He fell in love with you because you're beautiful and vivacious, not because you'd be a useful political tool. That wouldn't have been love."  
  
I know."  
  
"You can't resent him simply because he's not John Darlian."  
  
"How dare you..." Katrina jumped to her feet, startling her son into peering out from beneath the table cloth.  
  
"Mama, Aw' you mad?"  
  
"No precious," sighed the queen, reseating herself.   
  
"Forgive me, my lady, but you asked my opinion."  
  
"I asked your opinion on pacifism." Said the queen frostily. "I see no need for this discussion to have turned into a critique of my love life."  
  
"Forgive me, my lady," said Gretchen, rising. "Come princeling, let's get you washed and dressed. Stooping down, she deftly scooped the protesting child out from under the table. Katrina remained seated, watching the older woman move swiftly toward the balcony doors. When she reached them, Gretchen turned briefly to face her former nursling.   
  
"Would you like me to help you dress this evening, my lady, or shall I send one of the maids."  
  
"You may assist me if you wish," said the queen, feeling a pang of remorse. After a moment she stood. "Gretchen I..." But she was already gone.   
  
I have been blessed  
And I feel like I've found my way  
I thank God for all I've been given  
At the end of every day  
  
Katrina irritably tugged at the dozen or so gold pins that held her hair in place. As they came loose one by one, she flung them carelessly into the top drawer of her vanity. She was never going to be ready on time, and Gretchen was late. Frowning, she glanced at the clock--five past seven. The party was set to begin at nine, and it was going to take at least an hour and a half to arrange her hair, never mind the time required to dress and apply her makeup. Cursing in a very unqueenly manner, Katrina yanked the last pin free. Released from the bonds that had held them strictly in place, her knee length tresses spilled down her back in waves of honey and gold. Dressed only in a white silk shift and several layers of stiff petticoats, Katrina felt the subtle rush of feminine beauty she always experienced when she took her hair down.   
  
Despite her growing annoyance, the queen was pleased by the reflection that gazed back at her from within the gilt frame of the mirror. Shaking her head so that a few curls fell forward over her bare shoulders, she concentrated on smoothing out the frown that was producing unattractive wrinkles in the ordinarily clear skin of her brow. In it's place she determinedly cultivated a sullen expression more akin to a sultry pout.   
  
"If you must frown, Katrina, be sure that you do it prettily."  
  
She could hear her deportment instructor now. Nathaniel and John had taunted her for what they liked to call her "girly lessons", and she herself had hated them, but looking back on those hours of bordom Katrina was grateful to her mother for forcing them on her. Any enjoyment she had missed--be it climbing trees or pretending to fence with the boys--had been well worth her current advantage of being able to look and act both a soft spoken gentlewoman and an emperious queen by turns.   
  
Nathaniel and John. Why did she insist on thinking of them as a unit? Picking up an elegantly knitted throw lying on the sofa in the corner of the room, Katrina wrapped it about her shoulders as she passed through the open door of her dressing room into the bedchamber she shared with Nathaniel. As she passed the currently unoccupied alcove that served as her husband's private dressing area, Katrina silently berated all men for the lack of effort it took them to prepare for any sort of formal occasion. Doubtless he wouldn't come in to dress until nearly quarter after eight.   
  
Beyond the bedroom, through a set of light wooden doors, lay the royal couple's private sitting room. Katrina had furnished it herself in shades of burgundy and cream and had adorned it's walls and several tables with family treasures brought from her homeland. At it's far end was yet another set of doors, this time leading out onto the balcony she and Nathaniel had adopted as a sort of breakfast room during the summer months. Dragging a chair over to the railing, Katrina sat down and rested her chin in her hands.   
  
Perhaps Gretchen was right. But she had long Cince given up the idea of being with John, hadn't she? Was it possible that she was that selfish?   
  
"But it was pacifism that destroyed my homeland."   
  
The wind had picked up during the early afternoon, and what had previously been a gentle breeze was now long, stiff gusts of cool air..   
  
I don't love him.  
  
I don't want to love him.  
  
"What am I doing?"   
  
She had been given everything as a child. Having never experienced want, she had been unprepared for the realization that not all things in life could be had merely for the asking. Throughout their secret courtship, John had liked to tease her that she was a fairytale princess.   
  
"Well, if I was, somebody forgot to shut the book properly and I fell out."  
  
She had been faithful to Nathaniel...did it really matter that her heart might still belong at least in part to another man? Vaguely the queen remembered fragments of the religious instruction she'd received as a child. Something about looking lustfully upon a member of the opposite sex outside of the bonds of marriage...  
  
She shrugged, willing the sudden bout of melancholy to disappear. This evening was supposed to be one of celebration--although the actual reason for the festivities was still nearly a week away. Milliardo's third birthday, and his official recognition as the Heir of Cinc, would occur the following Sunday, but she and Nathaniel had thought it best to move the celebration ahead a week. Katrina felt a shiver run up her spine at the knowledge of their motive--it would be safer this way.   
  
"My Lady?"  
  
Gretchen's soft voice made Katrina jump. Rising quickly, she spun to face the older woman.   
  
"I had a bit of trouble getting Milliardo into his party clothes. I hope the delay won't make you late for the ball."  
  
"Not if we hurry. Gretchen," Katrina paused, somewhat at a loss.  
  
"Yes, my Lady?"  
  
"I...oh, never mind," she said, striding back into the sitting room.  
  
Gretchen's deft fingers aranged Katrina's beautiful locks in record time. With the help of two other maids, the queen's lavender silk ball gown was lowered over her head without disturbing a single curl. Then her makeup was applied and her nails painted while she tried not to fidget.   
  
At precisely twenty five to nine, the three servants stepped back to survey their handiwork.   
  
"you look lovely, as always." Gretchen's nodd of approval elicited identical sighs of relief from the two lesser maids. It was common knowledge throughout the palace that any imperfection in the appearance of the aging nanny's favorite nursling would be met with a severe scolding.   
  
"You may go," said Katrina, gesturing for Gretchen to remain in the room even as she rose to depart with the other maids. The older woman had been uncharacteristically silent for the last hour and a half. Ordinarily she attempted to break up the monotony of celebratory preparations with some sort of idle chatter. Tonight she had been more sparing of words than she had been Cince the night she'd first discovered the state of affairs between her lady and John Darlian. Although she hated to admit it, Katrina still sought the advice and approval of her old nurse and confidante, despite the fact that she was nearing her twenty-second birthday.  
  
"I'm sorry, Gretchen," she said, the moment the door had swung shut, leaving them alone.  
  
"For what, my Lady?"   
  
"You know perfectly well for what. You also know I hate appologizing, so thaw out already." Katrina rose from her dressing table and moved to stande before the older woman. In the orangey gold light of the setting sun, she looked suddenly much older than the queen knew her to be. Taking care not to crush the lace at the bodice of her gown, Katrina drew the aging maid into a tight embrace.   
  
"You're right, you know, Nanna. I shouldn't resent him because he's not John. But I do. Only sometimes--usually when he's playing the role of superior pacifist as set against my ignorant fighting spirit. But his stupid pacifism robbed father of his life and his kingdom. I love Nathaniel like the friend that he's always been, but how dare he expect me to feel more for him than that?" Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but Katrina valiantly strove to hold them back, mindful of her fresh makeup.  
  
Gretchen patted her back gently, then pulled away. Producing a clean handkerchief from the pocket of her blue muslin gown she carefully dabbed at the teardrops that threatened to spill over the queen's long, curling eyelashes.  
  
"There there, my Lady," she soothed. "Don't get all upset and ruin your pretty face. I understand it can't be easy. Especially now..." Her words trailed off, but Katrina knew what she was thinking of. Especially now that John was engaged.   
  
Hellen Von Aldsdale, the younger daughter of a minor baron, had never been one of Katrina's favorite people. As a child she had found her to be frequently selfish and contrary, as a teenager she had been rather close-lipped and sullen. Looking back, Katrina now wondered if the negative opinion of Hellen she'd cultivated Cince their girlhood had only been exaserbated over the years by the knowledge that she too was in love with John.   
  
Seating herself on the edge of the sofa, the queen looked up at Gretchen with a mixture of sadness and confusion on her young face.   
  
"He's going to be there tonight. To be honest I simply don't feel up to seeing him."  
  
"You see him several times a month. Why is this any different?"  
  
"Well, because. Because..." her voice trailed off. Why indeed?  
  
"Are you still in love with him then?"  
  
"Yes. No. I mean, I don't know. I used to think I was. But after today I'm not certain if I love him, or if I'm just mistaking not loving Nathaniel for still being in love with John."  
  
A light tapping on the door precluded any further discussion of that topic. Rising swiftly, Katrina took one last look in the mirror as Gretchen moved to admit the king. In spite of herself his wife could not help but exclaim delightedly over his appearance, for he was resplendent in white trousers and a jacket of deep purple velvet that exactly complimented the pale silk of her gown. His flowing platinum hair gleamed almost white as it cascaded down his back, and the sapphire pin on his lapel sparkled with the same hue as his bleu eyes.   
  
"But why must you wear that horrid thing," inquired Katrina, pointing at the sash that symbolized his membership in the Romafeller foundation. "I thought you were currently at odds with Duke Dermale and his cronies."  
  
Nathaniel allowed a slight smile to curve his lips. "I am, but Cince several members of the foundation will be in attendance this evening I deemed it worth the sacrifice. You win more flies with honey, after all. You know," he added, taking her small hands in his, "You look positively beautiful."  
  
"Why thank you," replied the queen, tilting her head coyly to one side. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gretchen shake her head, but chose to ignore the nurse's tacit disapproval. After all, she intended to keep John at arm's length this evening, but why let her good looks be wasted?  
  
Laying her hand on the king's sleeve, Katrina glanced back over her shoulder just long enough to request that Milliardo be brought down for his presentation at ten.   
  
"No later, or he'll start to get crabby," she added.   
  
"Yes, my Lady."  
  
I have been blessed  
With so much more than I deserve  
To be here with the ones that love me  
To love them so much it hurts  
I have been blessed  
  
By nine thirty Katrina was sorely tempted to abandon her post at Nathaniel's side and abscond herself in some quiet alcove until all the guests had arrived. There were only so many stuffy gentlemen and extravagant ladies she could stomach at one time, after all.   
  
Just as she was about to excuse herself on the pretext of checking on Milliardo, a familiar voice made her freeze, temporarily paralyzed.   
  
"Good evening, Katrina, Nathaniel. You both know my fiance, Hellen Von Aldsdale." She hoped devoutly that it was her imagination, but Katrina was almost certain that she saw John glance at her as though he hoped she would show some sign of disappointment or heartbreak. Determined to exhibit no such emotion, especially Cince she wasn't exactly certain she felt either, the queen extended her hand to the thinly smiling lady who appeared to be permanently affixed to John's coat sleeve.   
  
"Hellen. It's been a long time. Allow me to offer you my warmest congratulations and best wishes for your upcoming marriage." To her satisfaction, her voice remained steady and controlled.  
  
"Thank you, Your Majesty," responded Hellen. She was pretty enough--there was no denying that--but the way she was clinging to John's arm made Katrina want to vomit.   
  
"Congratulations, John. Lady Hellen, you've procured yourself an excellent husband." Nathaniel was smiling broadly, but Katrina didn't miss the sidelong glance he sent her way. He'd never liked Hellen either.   
  
"Oh, cut it out Nathaniel. You're likely to raise her expectations to a level that I can never hope to match. Pray, don't condemn the felicity of my marriage before it begins."  
  
"Nonsense. If you don't mind I'd like a word with you later. I know it's a celebration, but I've just received some extremely disturbing reports from my contact within the Alliance military."  
  
"Of course. Come find me once all your guests have arrived." With a swift bow, John escorted his bride to be into the ballroom, where they soon disappeared amidst the throng of gayly dressed party goers. The orchestra had just begun to play a waltz, and under cover of the pleasing swell of noise Katrina whispered, "She still looks like she swallowed something raw." Nathaniel nodded, smiling, but the approach of more guests prohibited him from making an acerbic comment or two of his own.   
  
At quarter of ten, Nathaniel indicated that it was finally time for the royal couple to proceed into the ballroom. Only a few minutes remained until the main event began. The sound of orchestra music had been enticing Katrina for nearly fifteen minutes, and she was anxious to get in a dance or two before she and the king took their places on the daise that had been erected for their son's informal and slightly premature presentation to society. But just as she was starting to turn away from the wide staircase that led up from the grand entry hall below, The sound of a woman's voice calling her given name made the queen pause.   
  
"Katrina! Katrina, wait just a moment!"   
  
A woman of about the queen's own age was hurredly mounting the steps. She hadn't stopped to remove the traveling shawl that covered her shoulders, and her emerald green ball dress was markedly of a simpler design than Katrina's. Her black hair was cropped short, adorned only by a single diamond clip, and in her arms she held a toddler with long tresses of the same raven hue.   
  
At the sight of her only true female friend Katrina ran forward, nearly tripping over the thick carpet when her left heel caught on it's raised edge.   
  
"Maria!  
  
The two girls had met when they were about ten, and had quickly forged a friendship that had remained relatively unaltered throughout their adolescence and respective marriages. Maria's husband Aubrey was the king of a small country just across Cinc's eastern border, and for several generations the family had been staunch supporters of the Peacecraft model of total pacifism.   
  
When the other woman did not respond immediately to her friend's exuberant greeting, Katrina paid little heed.  
  
"You're here! Nathaniel, look! You made it--I thought you said you wouldn't be able to come. And you've brought baby Lucretzia...goodness, she gets prettier every time I see her. But what's wrong?" Katrina's joyous exclamations were cut short by the sight of her old friend's troubled expression.  
  
"I'm so sorry to burden you with this tonight, but..." Maria drew a long breath, as if fighting back tears. "Our country was attacked by the Alliance early this morning. Aubrey stayed behind to try and reason with them but--well, he told me to take what I could and leave." One lone teardrop traced it's way down her pale cheek.   
  
"Oh, Maria, I'm so sorry!" Carefully, Katrina wrapped the other woman and her sleeping daughter in a tender embrace. "You're welcome to stay with us as long as you wish..."  
  
Behind her, the queen felt Nathaniel shift uncomfortably. She knew what he was thinking. Yet another glaring example of pacifism's ineffectiveness.   
  
"I daren't stay more than this one night," Maria replied, swiping at her moist eyes with one corner of her shawl. "I don't want them to use my presence as an excuse to launch an attack against you."  
  
An attack against you.  
  
Against us.  
  
Katrina suddenly felt very cold. Hastily collecting her wits she inquired, "but where will you go?"  
  
"To my sister. She still has father's mantion in southern Italy. Lucia and I can be comfortable there, and it's enough out of the way that I doubt the Alliance will bother us."  
  
"That sounds wise, Maria," said Nathaniel. His voice was unusually quiet. "If there's anything more we can do for you..."  
  
"No, thank you, Your Majesty. I know you've got guests to attend to--I'm sorry to have to miss little Milliardo's presentation, but I'm so dreadfully tired..."  
  
"Yes, of course." Katrina laid one hand on her friend's shoulder, beckoning with the other for a passing maid.  
  
"Take the lady Maria to the nursery, and tell Gretchen that Lucretzia is to spend the night there with the prince. Then show the lady to a bedchamber on the second floor--yes, I know all the rest of the overnight guests are staying on the third floor, but I wish Maria to have some privacy. Now hurry up."  
  
The startled maid executed a rather sloppy courtsy, then held out her arms for the child Maria was carrying.   
  
"No, it's fine. I'd prefer to hold her."  
  
When the two women had disappeared around a corner, Katrina turned to look at Nathaniel. She tried to catch his gaze, but the king stubbornly refused to look at her.   
  
"We'd better go inside," Katrina informed him finally, not trusting herself to say more.  
  
The presentation went smoothly except for a few moments of pain on Katrina's part when Milliardo took a sudden and undeterable interest in the amethest earrings she wore, which dangled just within reach of his small hands.   
  
"They'w pretty," he announced, in a voice that was clearly audible throughout the ballroom.  
  
"Shhh," Katrina hissed, desperately attempting to loosen his grip without being too conspicuous.   
Nathaniel, who had been attempting to deliver a brief address in honor of the occasion, turned to her with the hint of a smile.   
  
"Don't discourage him too much from bestowing compliments, my dear. He'll make quite the gentleman some day if he learns early how to please members of the opposite sex."  
  
A ripple of laughter and light applause passed through the croud of assembled nobles, and Katrina was amused to see several ladies shoot pointed glances toward their husbands.   
  
Katrina smiled wanly, but her mind was not on the proceedings at hand. It was at once upstairs with her childhood friend and several years in the future, greiving for the one and fearfully anticipating the other.   
  
First her father's kingdom, now Maria's. The Alliance was ruthless and she knew that they viewed absolute pacifism as a hindrence to global control. Nathaniel was a brilliant diplomat, as was John, but still...  
  
Deep down in her heart, Katrina had the sickening premonition that the Cinc kingdom and everything it's royal family stood for were doomed.   
  
When the brief ceremony was over and Milliardo had been carried back to the nursery, Katrina resigned herself to the inevitable task of playing hostess to a room full of aristocrats. No matter that she'd been bred and trained for such duties as this, and that ordinarily she enjoyed them immensely. Her earlier conversation with Gretchen and the circumstances surrounding Maria's arrival had soured her mood considerably. And to make matters worse, everywhere she turned she was confronted by the disagreeable sight of Hellen and John hanging all over one another.  
  
For nearly two hours Katrina made the best of the situation, dancing with one stately gentleman after another until her feet ached from the constant pressure imposed on them by her elegant silver heels.   
Sometime after midnight she slipped out of the ballroom and made her way down the wide hall that bisected the palace. Entering one of the salons that opened off the corridor, Katrina shut the door behind her with a sigh of relief. The room seemed to be unoccupied and a cheerful fire burned in the grate. It's flickering light warmly illuminated the polished wooden furniture and bathed the entire room in a tranquil glow. Uncerimoniously, the queen sat down on the floor and rapidly unbuckled her shoes.  
  
"You know, Katrina, furniture does exist for a reason."  
  
Startled, she looked up to meet John's smiling eyes. He was seated in one of the armchairs facing the fire, which was the reason she hadn't seen him from the doorway.  
  
"Where's your barnacle?" she asked, without thinking.   
  
"My fiance," he emphasized the word, "Was forced to leave early because of a stomachache."  
  
"Maybe she had an out of body experience and watching herself draped all over you made her ill," quipped Katrina, rising and flinging her shoes into a corner.   
  
John sat forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "I realize you're not particularly fond of Hellen, Katrina, but that doesn't give you the right to insult her--especially to me."  
  
She strode over to the chair opposite him and seated herself with a calculated flounce. "Why not? Just because you're getting married doesn't mean I'm going to become more circumspect around you." Then, frowning, she leaned forward and looked him directly in the eyes. "You're still the only one I can speak plainly to, John."  
  
"Look Katrina..."  
  
"Don't you start trying to lecture me. Nathaniel can tell you all about how that won't work."  
  
"Katrina, what's this about. You've been keeping me at arm's length for years, except when you need someone to tend to your emotional outpourings. I know I promised you I wouldn't speak of what was between us and I never have, but after all this time your confidant ought to be your husband. The man you chose to marry."  
  
"I thought you said you wouldn't resent our decision..."  
  
"I don't. You two are my best friends and I want more than anything to see you happy. I knew   
Nathaniel loved you and I know he still does. I also knew that for all your talk of loving me..."  
  
"Talk!"  
  
"...For all your talk of loving me you might not really know what you'd be giving up if you married me."  
  
"What's your point, John. Oh, but before you continue let me inform you that I've been keeping you at a distance out of respect for Nathaniel and for your own feelings!"  
  
He was silent for a moment, gazing into the fire. Thoroughly incensed, Katrina lay back in her armchair, trying to look distainful.   
  
"I guess I hoped you'd grow to love him. You knew when he married you that Nathaniel was completely besotted. At the time I think I viewed my giving you up as a sort of noble sacrifice. But you don't love him, do you? Did you marry him for comfort, or for the prestige? I can't fathom why you went through with it otherwise."  
  
Feeling suddenly very weary, Katrina shook her head. "No, I don't love him," she admitted. "But I married him because I could do more good that way. I told you that when I accepted his offer--remember that night, on the dock at your father's estate?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"I told you then that I wanted my life to count for something. I was charmed, I guess, by the ideal of total pacifism, and Nathaniel was my friend, not just some old duke twice my age. I suppose I really believed we could help bring peace to the world--you and he and I--but, well, mother said I'd be of more use to such a cause as Queen of Cinc, not...not Mrs. John Darlian. Everything would have been fine, except that Father was killed right before the wedding. It was too late to turn back--I had nowhere to go at that point--but I can't...I can't bring myself to love a man whose stupid ideals were responsible for such a horrible tragedy."  
  
A heavy silence filled the room after she had finished speaking. Katrina toyed nervously with the gold bracelet on her left wrist, studiously keeping her eyes anywhere but on John's face.   
  
"Are you certain your righteous indignation," he paused for a moment, considering his next words. "Well, are you sure you're not mistaking your bitterness over your father's death for resentment that Nathaniel hasn't..."  
  
"What? You think I resent him for not being you?" Katrina laughed dryly, forcing the mirthless sound from her lips even as her heart sank. "You know, Gretchen asked me the same thing. I was complaining to her about this situation. She also asked me if I'm still in love with you."  
  
"Well, are you?"   
  
"I...I don't know." She lowered her head, vaguely wishing that her hair was unbound so that it could fall forward and partially obscure her face.   
  
"You don't know?" he pressed, rising and moving to stand with his back to the fire. The flames cast flickering shadows across his handsome countenance, and idly she noted that the beard he was growing seemed to suit him.  
  
"I really don't know. I thought I did, but when you got engaged I was surprised that I didn't feel...well, anything except amazement that you'd decided to marry old sour sorts."  
  
"I can't speak for your emotions, Katrina. Despite the fact that I see you all the time, I don't think I know you anymore...not the way I once did--or at least, thought I did. But I can tell you this--believe it or not, I am truly and completely in love with Hellen."  
  
Katrina wanted to feel heartbroken, betrayed...something. Instead she could only sit calmly and accept John's admission as an indisputable fact.   
  
"but why?" she finally inquired, unable to think of anything else to say.  
  
"What--did you think I'd stay enamored of you forever, even after you'd gotten married and moved on? No offense, Katrina, but don't flatter yourself. You may be elegant and beautiful, but you're not such a captivating woman that no man can live without you. To be sure, I pined for a while like any good forsaken lover, but then I got on with my life. If you'd bothered to engage me in something other than the occasional idle conversation Cince your marriage you'd have seen the change. Honestly, what did you expect--that your aloofness would merely inspire me to continue loving you like I did? At first I convinced myself that you were merely avoiding me to protect your own heart but..." John shrugged, spreading out his hands in a helpless gesture. "What did you expect me to do."  
  
Katrina was feeling incredibly dizzy. "What did you expect...?" She didn't know. Finally, she managed to say, "I ment, what made you fall in love with Hellen. You know Nathaniel's and my opinion of her. I thought you didn't like her either." Her voice had come out steady and unconcerned--doubtless the product of years of having to hold her emotions in check whenever political dignitaries were in the room.   
  
He frowned down at her. "I can't exactly put my finger on it...I suppose one never can, where love is concerned. I think I first began to realize that there was something more to her when she refused to marry that count...you know what I'm talking about, I assume."  
  
"Yes." Katrina couldn't help smiling. "That was pretty spunky--I can't blame her for not wanting to be tied to such an ill-humored old stiffneck--but she gave up quite a position."  
  
"That's just what I mean!" exclaimed John. "You look at things that way--you were bred to. Hellen merely decided that Cince she didn't love him, it wouldn't be appropriate to marry him. I guess--I guess after you turned me down for Nathaniel and his crown I was impressed by a girl who had her priorities straight."  
  
Katrina raised a hand up to cover her faice, feeling as though she'd just been slapped.   
  
"Sorry, Katrina." John's voice had softened considerably. "That didn't come out very politely at all."  
  
"no. Don't apologize. I told you at the start of this conversation that I appreciate the fact that you and I can speak plainly--although, as you pointed out, we haven't done so in years." Lowering her hand to her side, Katrina got to her feet slowly. "I think--I think...I think I don't know what I think. Tonight was perhaps not the night to get into this discussion, but I'm glad we've had it anyway." Taking a few steps toward the door, she was surprised to feel her knees trembling.   
  
"Katrina?" John sounded concerned. "Before you go...I spoke to Nathaniel. He told me about Maria...Cince she went upstairs, word's come through that Aubrey was killed. I'm afraid their country's been put under the control of an Alliance general and...well, you know the rest. Please, if you see her tell her I'm terribly sorry."  
  
"Yes," she replied, her voice little more than a whisper. "I'll tell her. In the morning. Why disturb her rest for that kind of news?"  
  
Across a crowded room  
I know you know what I'm thinking  
By the way I look at you  
And when we're lying in the quiet  
And no words have to be said  
I think to myself, I think to myself  
This love is a beautiful gift  
  
Still barefoot, Katrina exited the study and made her way back to the ballroom. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed one as she passed, and the party was still in full swing. The sensation of heat in her cheeks informed the distracted queen that she was probably flushed, and she felt as though she might collapse at any moment.  
  
Upon entering the ballroom, Katrina scanned the croud for Nathaniel. After a diligent search she spotted him, sipping a glass of wine and conversing amiably with an elderly duchess. Heedless of whose path she might inadvertently be cutting off, Katrina made a beeline for her husband.   
  
The king noticed her coming toward him and smiled. However, when he caught sight of her flushed face and the way she was holding her lower lip between her teeth, Nathaniel hastily excused himself from his conversation and strode to meet her. Discreetly, so as not to arouse the suspicions of any guest who might be watching them, he slid her arm through his, growing more concerned when she leaned heavily on his elbow.  
  
"What's wrong?" he inquired in a low voice.   
  
"Nothing. I just...John told me about Aubrey. I...I think I'm going to go upstairs. I don't feel like celebrating right now." Though she had told him only half the reason for her distress, Katrina nevertheless felt some of the weight lifted off her heart.   
  
"Of course. I'll come up to join you as soon as I can...or would you rather be alone?" he asked.  
  
"Do as you wish," Katrina replied, extricating her arm from his and turning away. Barely watching where she was going, she hurried out of the ballroom, pretending not to hear the summons of any number of slightly inebriated party guests. Once she was out in the hall she broke into a sort of scurrying trot--even in her confusion mindful of her aching feet.  
  
"A girl who had her priorities straight..."  
  
what could he be talking about? Wasn't the good of mankind the greatest priority anyone could set? Why, he was implying that her marrying Nathaniel had been some sort of indication that she was not a good woman...but wasn't altruism a praiseworthy quality?   
  
Upon reaching her quarters, Katrina fairly threw herself down onto one of the plush sofas in the sitting room, distractedly placing one hand on her forehead. She leaned back, trying to get her thoughts in order.   
  
What had she expected from him? Had she still believed him to be in love with her? Katrina rapidly came to the conclusion that such was not the case--it had been five years, after all. But she was still left with the question of why? Why had she chosen Nathaniel over John. Was it, as he had implied, that she was somehow wrong in her view of the world? But her mother had said...  
  
Unsteadily, the queen rose and went to the alcove that housed the in house communications system. In a voice that she was distressed to hear trembling, the queen ordered two bottles of red wine to be sent up to her chamber immediately. She knew better than to drink alone, especially when she was upset, but tonight was simply going to have to be an exception to the rule.  
  
And what of this affair with the Alliance. She was no where near as versed in the intricacies of international politics as Nathaniel, but it was plain to see that the Alliance's eventual goal was to crush any state which upheld the ideals of total pacifism.   
  
"If you want to kill something, go for the head," she murmured, once again toying with her bracelet. "It's a wonder they've spared us thus far--I suppose Nathaniel still has enough influence to make such an action on there part seem politically unwise. "  
  
Images of the palace--the only home she had left--in flames and crumbling about her and her son came unbidden to Katrina's mind. She wanted to cry, or to throw something, but she could only lie there on the couch, thinking.   
  
When a butler brought the wine she had requested, Katrina waited until he had left the room then took a large gulp straight from the bottle. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand in a most unladylike gesture, she tried to get comfortable on the luxurious cushions that suddenly felt terribly lumpy.   
  
Nathaniel was a fool. But despite her fear and the fact that she knew she could never bring herself to see things his way, Katrina found that she did not feel any sort of anger towards her husband. Why? Thoroughly confused and frustrated, she once again raised the wine bottle to her lips.  
  
She had given up her love for John in exchange for a chance to be a powerful woman.   
  
Gazing dully at the voluminous folds of lavender silk that spilled about her legs, Katrina wondered for the first time if her hopes had all been an illusion.   
  
When Nathaniel finally appeared an hour later, Katrina had finished off the contents of the first wine bottle and was clumsily attempting to uncork the second. Upon seeing his weary expression, she patted the seat next to her with the corkscrew.   
  
"C'mon and sit down...you look like you could use some of this too."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of the queen's somewhat disheveled appearance and the empty wine bottle on the floor by her feet. Katrina's hair was coming loose from the pins and jeweled ornaments that had held it in place throughout most of the evening, and the gown she wore looked considerabley rumpled. Concerned, he advanced toward her, holding out his hand for the bottle that rested in her lap.   
  
"Did you drink that whole thing by yourself?" he asked, his voice reproachful.   
  
"Yes," she replied. "And if you're unwilling to help me I shall very likely finish this second one off as well."  
  
He sat down beside her, taking her hand which was trembling slightly. Prying the corkscrew loose from her rather weak grasp, he deftly opened the wine bottle and refilled her glass. Reaching for a clean vessel that sat on a tray on the coffee table, he filled it and took a long sip, surveying his distressed wife over the crystal brim.   
  
"I know you must be troubled by what happened to Maria, but..."  
  
"Troubled?" she laughed shortly, unpleasantly. "Troubled? Gods, Nathaniel, don't you get it. We'll be next. Or maybe not next, but someday Cinc is going to fall to the Alliance. What'll we do then, do you think? Or do you think that if you're enough of a saint at the conferences and peace talks that the Alliance bigwigs will change there minds?"  
  
"Katrina..."  
  
"What!" she spat, jerking away from the comforting hand he attempted to lay about her shoulders. In the process, several drops of the wine in her glass sloshed out onto her exposed bosom and the bodice of her dress. "Now look what you made me do," she sulked, dabbing at the pinkish stains with a napkin from the tray.  
  
"If you..." the king rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. Through the haze of alcohol, disillusionment and frustration, Katrina noticed vaguely that she couldn't recall him ever looking so...defeated? Old?   
  
"If you..." he began again, then stopped.   
  
"Come on, say it." She smirked, too anesthetized by the wine to realize the bitterness in her voice. "You can make pretty speeches to everyone else, so why not to me."  
  
He remained silent, just looking at her. Finally, the king leaned back against the sofa cushions and asked, "Why did you marry me, Katrina?"  
  
She blinked at him. That was not what she'd been expecting. "What."  
  
"I thought..." he paused again, and Katrina thought hazily that she'd never seen him at such a loss for words. "I thought you might, well, not be in love with me but-that I had a good chance... Was I wrong? I thought you understood my ideals. I thought you would be happy to help me champion the cause of peace."  
  
Choosing to ignore his first question, because it would lead the conversation into even more dangerous territory, Katrina focused her remaining powers of concentration on articulating a response to the second.   
  
"I...think I wanted to support pacifism. Or rather, peace. The two were no different in my mind at that time. But then father died and...well, you know?" Even with her wine loosened tongue, Katrina could not bring herself to throw the failings of pacifism in her husband's face. For he was also one of her best friends, and she knew, beneath the resentment and confusion in her heart that if she broke with him completely on this matter, she would wound him so deeply that the rend in their relationship would be irreparable.   
  
"I see," he said, but she knew he didn't. He never would completely understand Not about John, not about her rapidly growing lack of faith in his chosen political course. He was an idealist, in the purest sense. He wanted her to love him, so no matter what she did he would believe that she loved him. He wanted her to trust in him and his ideals, and he would never understand why she couldn't.   
  
For several moments the two sat in silence, each absorbed by their own private thoughts. With unsteady hands Katrina refilled their glasses, but the wine that had earlier tasted so sweet now made her want to gag as it traveled down her throat.   
  
She was thinking about John's words to her earlier. What had she really accomplished? She looked at Nathaniel-the proud bearing, the flowing hair, the determined set of his jaw, even though she knew turmoil must be raging within him at this moment. Her best friend. Her king. The symbol and constant reminder of all her mistakes.   
  
"Do you love me, Katrina?"  
  
"Yes," she lied. She hated lying.   
  
"This time she did not pull away when his arm encircled her shoulders. She was so tired. And she felt so empty. She'd likely have a headache in the morning.   
  
Nathaniel's hands began to caress her hair, her shoulders, her cheeks. She let him do as he wished, only moving once to set her half-full wine glass back on the tray. He did the same, then pulled her to her feet.   
  
"It'll be all right." He promised, drawing her against his chest. Despite herself, Katrina began to be comforted-if not by his words, at least by the aura of strength and the clean, familiar scent that emanated from him.  
  
She did not pull away when his hands slid up her back and began unlatching the buttons of her gown. It had been a long time.   
  
*****  
  
Later that night, when the lights had all been turned out and the sweat from their bodies had cooled, Katrina lay awake, unable to sleep and yet unable to think coherently. Nathaniel lay still beside her, his breathing slow, but somehow she doubted that he was asleep. She closed her eyes, moving closer to him, seeking his comforting warmth. She concentrated on making each individual muscle relax along her legs and back, and let her mind drift aimlessly. For a long time, everything was silent.   
  
"I love you Katrina."  
  
And for the first time, she was glad.   
  
  
I have been blessed  
And I feel like I've found my way  
I thank God for all I've been given  
At the end of every day  
  
The baby was born precisely eight months and twenty eight days later. A girl this time. Milliardo was ecstatic, pestering every adult who happened to pass by his nursery to take him to look at his little sister.  
  
They named the baby Relena.   
  
That afternoon, as Katrina was lying on the sofa in her sitting room, Relena sleeping peacefully in a bassinette beside the couch, one of the servants informed her timidly, and with a look of great apprehension, that the Italian home of Maria's older sister had been raided in the night. According to the official report, the entire building had been burned, and the bodies of both Maria and her sister had been found among the ashes.   
  
Katrina felt as though she'd been dealt a physical blow to the chest. She lay there for several moments, eyes closed, trying to internalize the news she'd just received.   
  
Maria was dead.   
  
"Excuse me, My Lady, but...would you like me to fetch the doctor? You're looking rather ill."  
  
"No, I'm fine."  
  
Silence. Katrina opened her eyes and took in the sight of her cheerful sitting room bathed in the glow of the afternoon sun. Her gaze went instinctively to a photograph on the mantle, framed in a delicate silver border. It was of Maria and herself in their early teens, hair and skirts flying, in pursuit of a kite that was being swiftly carried off by the autumn breeze.   
  
"Maria was dead.  
  
"What of the child. Maria's daughter, Lucretzia. What happened to her?"  
  
"The report the intelligence people sent back said they didn't find her, My Lady. If you'll permit me, I reckon she got out with one of the servants, or some such thing."   
  
"I see. Let's hope so." Katrina lay motionless for several more minutes, her thoughts flitting between fearful images of what must have occurred in Italy, to images of Maria, Lucretzia-and then to the baby sleeping quietly amidst the white lace ruffles of her bassinette.   
  
"My lady?"   
  
"What is it?" she snapped, then instantly felt guilty.  
  
"Forgive me, My Lady, but I thought you might like to know that His Highness was strongly opposed to telling you about the Lady Maria, you having just had the baby and all. Gretchen made him let me come tell you."   
  
"Thank you. You may go."  
  
The servant scurried out, leaving Katrina to stare at the walls and furniture of her sitting room, feeling forlorn. Maria was dead.   
  
And Nathaniel's stupid, insufferable pacifism was to blame, once again.  
  
No matter that he'd been the most considerate person in the world during her pregnancy. No matter that he'd put up with her frequent bouts of ill humor and had massaged away the cramps in her muscles whenever she'd asked. At that moment, Katrina loathed her kind, gentle husband more than anyone else in the world, accept the heads of the Alliance military forces.   
  
First her father, now the only female friend that she had ever felt more than an easy tolerance for.   
  
"Damn him."  
  
Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door. Katrina contemplated ignoring it, but the light tapping came again, more insistent this time.   
  
"come in," she called, dragging herself into a more upright sitting position as the wooden panel swung inward.   
  
"Katrina?"   
  
It was John. She had seen him but rarely Cince their encounter at the party over half a year earlier, and when they happened to meet by chance their conversations were distant, at best.   
  
"good afternoon," she said, trying to keep her voice low and amiable so as not to wake the baby. "It's so good to see you."  
  
She gestured with her hand for him to sit in the armchair across from her. He did so, and leaning forward he surveyed her intently.   
  
"I came to offer the olive branch, as it were, and to see the baby."  
  
Just like him. No preamble. It often amazed her how he could be a high-level political and diplomatic figure and yet be so blunt when it came to his personal relationships.   
  
In spite of her bereavement, Katrina mustered a smile for her old friend. "Never mind that. We both said things we shouldn't have."  
  
A pause ensued, as neither one knew exactly what to say following their prolonged estrangement. It was a separation that Katrina now realized had spanned not just the past eight months, but in reality the entire length of her marriage.   
  
"I don't mean to bring up a painful subject," John said finally, "but Nathaniel told me about Maria, and I can't help wondering how you're holding up."  
  
She sighed, idly toying with a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. "I don't know I...I just found out about five minutes before you came."  
  
"Nathaniel was worried about how you'd take the news."  
  
She snorted. "He should be. Gods, John, right now I hate him so much!"   
  
Immediately ashamed of her rash and childish outburst, Katrina raised a hand to her mouth. "I didn't mean that."  
  
Just then, a tentative wail alerted them of little Relena's awakening. Motioning for Katrina to remain still, john rose and made his way over to the bassinette. Gently, carefully, he lifted the fretting child into his arms and carried her over to where Katrina was waiting, prepared to nurse. For the sake of modesty she arranged a blanket so that it partially obscured John's view.   
  
"I'm impressed," he commented, reseating himself across from her. "Most noblewomen I know don't nurse their own children."  
  
"I'm not most noblewomen. I prefer not to treat my children as though they were nothing more than charming little assets."  
  
Silence fell between them, punctuated only by the soft sounds Relena made as she drank her fill of Katrina's milk. Outside the partially open window they could hear the calls of various birds floating on the spring wind, and Katrina began to feel a subtle peace steal over her.  
  
"I don't hate him, you know."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I don't think I'd be so...well, I guess you could say frightened, if it weren't for the fact that I've got two little ones now. If something happens to Nathaniel, or to me, what will happen to Milliardo and Relena? I wouldn't change the fact that they're here...not for all the money in the world...but I can't help thinking that they're a bit of a liability. No offense, precious," she added, tenderly stroking her daughter's head with the tip of one finger.   
  
At least you can have children."  
  
Katrina looked at her old friend sharply. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean...Hellen and I found out last week that she can't get pregnant."  
  
"Oh John, I'm so sorry!" Unable to reach out to him without the risk of dropping her baby, Katrina tried to channel all her sympathy into the expression on her face. "Can't you somehow get...what's it called...some kind of help fertilizing?"  
  
"We've been talking about it, but I think Hellen's a bit apprehensive. We only want one child, and you know how those fertility treatments tend to produce staggering numbers of offspring."  
  
"Yes, I suppose so." Katrina was thinking fast. Almost immediately she came to a decision. "John?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"when-if-something happens to Nathaniel and me, will you take Relena?"   
  
He looked startled, and for a moment she feared he might refuse. Without stopping to think, the queen plunged ahead.   
  
'I know things have been, well, odd between us these past few years, but really, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have take care of her in the event that...well, you know. I'm sure Nathaniel would feel the same way."  
  
"Katrina I..."  
  
"Listen John!" Her voice was growing more urgent. "I don't mean to be morbid, but it's plain to see that the Alliance isn't going to spare Cinc for too much longer. They tracked Maria down and killed her-John, if something happens to me, I want to be sure that Relena and Milliardo are in safe hands. Of course," she continued, forestalling his attempt to speak, "for their own safety they'd have to be split up...Gretchen can take Milliardo. Please..."  
  
He gazed at her for a long moment, as though carefully weighing everything she'd just said. Finally he nodded.  
  
"Ok, I'll take her...but only if Nathaniel agrees. After all, I'm a fairly well-known politician in this country...I doubt it's a good idea for either of the children to be with someone so high profile."  
  
She sighed. "Thank you. Don't tell Nathaniel today," she added, shifting her arm slightly. Relena was heavy, for all that she was only a few hours old. "He'll think this request is just the product of an overprotective mother's paranoia."  
  
"Somehow I doubt it," replied John, rising. "I have to go...I've got a meeting in Germany this evening, and my flight leaves in less than two hours."  
  
"Take care of yourself, John."  
  
"Same goes for you and the princess here."  
  
He shut the door softly, and Katrina lay back against the sofa cushions, smiling. She wasn't content. But she knew her baby would be safe.  
  
John would see to that.   
  
It was only later that she realized that he hadn't made any effort to convince her that Cinc would not fall.   
  
I have been blessed  
With so much more than I deserve  
To be here with the ones that love me  
To love them so much it hurts  
I have been blessed  
  
Milliardo's fourth birthday was the occasion for a fairly substantial celebration. Nathaniel had vetoed any suggestion that the young prince have a large party. Katrina and he both knew that it would be safer for their children to keep them out of the public eye. However, the Peacecrafts and their servants were not about to let the big day go unnoticed.   
  
Early that morning, with the help of Gretchen, Pagan and several harried-looking groundskeepers, the back lawn and gardens were converted into a miniature carnival. The day's festivities were open to all of the servants and their children, as Nathaniel was a firm believer in the idea that royal blood did not somehow free a person from the bonds of common humanity.   
  
It was one point on which Katrina and her husband whole-heartedly agreed, although she often had trouble practicing what she preached with regard to the matter.  
  
Katrina and her now four-month-old daughter spent the majority of the morning seated under a brightly decorated pavilion near the pond. The summer sunshine warmed the air and grass, illuminating every detail of the proceedings with a smiling gold benevolence.   
  
"Look Mama! Agatha showed me and Peter how to make dogs out of BALOONS!" Milliardo and another boy, the son of one of the gardeners, came scurrying up to the queen brandishing matching green balloon animals.   
  
"They're very nice. Why don't you lay them here on the grass with me, so you don't pop them." Katrina patted an open place beside the blanket upon which she sat.   
  
"Thanks Mama. C'mon, let's go see if we can win another candy from Damian." Grabbing the other boy by the hand, Milliardo tossed his new treasure on the ground beside his mother and headed off at a dead run to where one of the servants was presiding over a game of go fish.   
  
"It's nice to see him so happy," said Nathaniel, who had just emerged from the palace carrying a stack of papers and a small leather briefcase. Taking a seat beside Katrina and depositing the paperwork and bag on the ground, the king lifted his cheerfully burbling daughter into his lap.   
  
"Yes, it is. After the initial thrill of having a baby sister wore off, I was a bit afraid he'd go through a jealous phase. Fortunately, he's an extremely goodnatured little boy." Katrina smiled fondly over at her son, then refocused her gaze on Nathaniel. "Careful, she's just had breakfast. Make sure she doesn't spit up on you."  
  
"She won't throw up on me," he replied, looking amused. "She loves me."   
  
Katrina laughed. Then she noticed the items the king had brought with him.  
  
"How come you've got your briefcase...don't tell me you've got to leave? Oh Nathaniel!" she protested, as he nodded sadly. "It's Milliardo's birthday. Couldn't it wait?"  
  
"I'm sorry, but it really can't. I just got the call this morning...more border disputes between France and Germany. They want me to mediate and I can't really refuse."  
  
"Why not," she inquired, aware that she sounded petulant but not really caring. Memories of numerous birthdays spent without her parents flashed through her mind, making her eyes sting. She didn't want Milliardo to have memories like that.  
  
"Katrina," he soothed, putting an arm about her waist. "I know how you feel-I wish I didn't have to do this-but they're asking me to help. That means they see the value in what I'm doing-maybe even in Pacifism. I can't let an opportunity like this go. You understand that, don't you?" His look was pleading, and although she didn't understand at all, Katrina nodded.  
  
"All right. But...at least tell him you're going. I don't want to have to explain it to him."  
  
Nathaniel sighed. Rising, he handed Relena back to her mother. "That's only fair. Milliardo! Hey, birthday boy, come here for a moment please."  
  
The child looked around, his azure eyes searching the croud for the owner of the voice that had just summoned him. Upon seeing his father, Milliardo's face broke into a wide grin.   
  
"Father!" He trotted back over to the pavilion, laughing jubalently as his father swung him up into his arms.  
  
"How do you like your birthday party?" the King inquired, ruffling the boy's pale curls.   
  
"It's really fun. Peter and I made balloon dogs...Mama, show him it. Isn't it neat?"   
  
"That's very good, son." Then, lowering the child to the ground, the king knelt beside him. "I'm glad you're having such a good time, Milliardo. Unfortunately, I have to go to a meeting this afternoon. Is that all right?"  
  
The boy bit his lip. "But I wanted you to help me open my presents," he replied, looking crestfallen. "How come you always have to go to a meeting?"  
  
"Milliardo," admonished the queen. She hadn't wanted to intervene, but it wouldn't due to have the young prince make a scene in front of all the servants.  
  
"No, it's all right, Katrina. He has a right to ask that." The king put his hands on his son's shoulders. "Milliardo, do you know what our name-Peacecraft-do you know what it means?"   
  
"Yeah," responded the boy, still looking sullen. "It means we gotta help make people stop fighting and being mean and stuff. But what's that gotta do with my birthday?"  
  
"This morning, I got a phone call. Some people need me to go help them make peace. It is very important that I do so-that way, when you and Relena grow up, the world will be a safe place for you." Nathaniel's gaze met that of his son, and Katrina watched as a sort of understanding passed between them.  
  
"Ok," said Milliardo reluctantly, taking a step backward. "But you gotta come look at my presents right when you get back. Deal?"  
  
"Deal," replied the king, getting to his feet. The young prince bestowed a brief hug on his father's legs and then hurried back to the go fish table.  
  
"Do you think he really understands?" asked Nathaniel. Katrina was surprised, and somewhat saddened, to see the aprehention in her husband's eyes.   
  
"I think so...as much as any child can. Don't worry," she added, reaching up to take his hand. "There will be other birthdays."  
  
She hadn't really forgiven him for what had befallen Maria. But right at that moment, looking into his troubled eyes, she wanted to comfort him as best she could. The way things were going, there wasn't much more she could do.  
  
When I'm singing my kids to sleep  
When I feel you holding me  
I know  
  
It was only a matter of time before the Alliance began to build up there forces along Cinc's western border.   
  
Milliardo and Relena grew, oblivious of the danger that was slowly mounting. The princess began to cut teeth, walk and talk, and with every passing month she grew to resemble her mother more and more. Soon after the celebration of his fourth birthday Milliardo began his formal education, and it was quickly discovered that the boy had an extraordinary aptitude for learning. Although Nathaniel's absences were becoming more frequent, and he seldom had much time to spend with his children, the queen knew that he was extremely proud of his son.  
  
The number of Alliance troops at there border continued to grow. At the outset few people took much notice of the increasingly dire situation, but when Alliance planes began to make reconnaissance flights over the kingdom, an atmosphere of dread slowly crept over the entire country.  
  
At first Nathaniel tried to keep the extent of the trouble from Katrina. So absorbed was she in the growth and development of her children, as well as in helping to alleviate some of the effects of a sudden contenent wide economic crisis that for months she did not fully grasp the danger her country was in.  
  
one evening she came upon Nathaniel and a number of his aids discussing the matter in the king's study. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but what she heard as she passed the partially open door made her pause, then enter with an indignant exclamation.  
  
"When exactly were you planning to inform me of this situation!" she demanded, pinning her husband with an accusing stare. Heedless of the others in the room, Katrina placed her hands on her hips and regarded him angrily.  
  
Nathaniel sighed. He looked incredibly tired. "I didn't want to worry you."  
  
"Didn't want to...for gods' sake, Nathaniel. They could launch an attack on us any time, and you didn't want to worry me! They've been sending planes to take aerial photos of the landscape, and you didn't want to worry me! I'm not bloody Marie Antoinette. I want to know what's really going on. Now."  
  
The king sighed, gesturing for her to take a chair. "Very well, Katrina. From now on you shall be privy to all of these meetings. John, please inform Katrina-briefly, if you can-of what has transpired thus far."  
  
The queen spun around sharply. She hadn't noticed that John was in the room. He was looking at her with patent disapproval, and she returned his look with a glare of her own.   
  
He no doubt thought she should not have intruded. Either that, or he was embarrassed because of the dressing down she'd given Nathaniel in front of his advisers. Well, she didn't care. She was the queen, and this was her country too.   
  
And if she couldn't save it, the least she could do was to be aware of it's impending doom.   
  
I have been blessed  
And I feel like I've found my way  
I thank God for all I've been given  
At the end of every day  
  
That had been in November of AC 181. It was now August, AC 182, and the Alliance forces were on there way to destroy Cinc for good.  
  
And finally, in her sadness and fear, she had told Nathaniel the truth.   
  
Nathaniel gazed at her, heedless of the blood dripping from his hand where it had been cut by the glass of the shattering window.   
  
"So," he said, letting his fist drop to his side. "It comes to that."  
  
"Yes."  
  
He stood for another moment, looking as though his world was about to disintegrate. Then, the king of Cinc raised his head and met his wife's gaze squarely. She saw little there but sadness-sadness, and a deep, pain filled determination.  
  
"John will be here in twenty minutes. He told me some months ago about the scheme you two concocted-for him to take Relena. I don't know if it'll work, but it's certainly worth the try."  
  
She turned away from him, releasing his left hand, which she hadn't realized she'd still been holding. "I'll go tell Gretchen to get them ready. She'll take Milliardo." Without looking back at her husband, she exited there chamber and made her way to the nursery.  
  
When she got there, the lights were already on and Gretchen was busily dressing Relena, who was fussing sleepily.   
  
"Don' wanna wear da soos." She protested, as the aging nurse attempted to slip a pair of tiny sneakers on her kicking feet. Milliardo was in the far corner, seated on his bed. When Katrina entered the room he sprang up, ran to her and flung his arms around her waist.  
  
"Tell Gretchen you're coming too," he demanded, burying his face in the fabric of her dressing gown. "She says you're not, but tell her you're coming!"  
  
Feeling at once numb and extremely ill, Katrina laid what she hoped was a comforting hand on her son's head.   
  
"Mama!" Relena crowed from across the room, but Katrina paid no heed. She would forget. She was young enough to forget. Milliardo wouldn't. This night would haunt him forever.  
  
"Listen baby-Milliardo, look at me!"  
  
He raised his head, and Katrina was surprised to see that he wasn't crying.  
  
"You're not coming, are you."  
  
"I..." her mind froze. Why couldn't she? Why couldn't she slip away in the night, with her babies. They might even make it. What did she care about pacifism. What did it matter if Cinc was destroyed? She could start again, in a little village-  
  
Katrina shook her head, partly in answer to her son's question, partly to dispel the fantastic notions scurrying around in her brain. To escape was impossible. Her face was too well known-she would be identified anywhere she went. She would be a liability to her children. They were still young, and they had been carefully guarded from the public eye. They would be able to blend into society...  
  
"Mama...why does Father care about total pacifism? If I was a Father, and my family had to run away in the dark because of something dumb like that, I'd stop believing in it." Milliardo's jaw was set, and she was deeply saddened to see the look of reproach he was sending her way.  
  
"Because..." Gods, how was she supposed to explain something she didn't even understand herself. "Because...Milliardo, your father wants to make the world safe for everybody. If he...if he just stayed quiet, and didn't try to make other people believe in pacifism too-well, that would mean that other families would have to..." her voice broke off, choked by the tears she could feel sliding down her cheeks.   
  
The sound of footsteps in the hallway saved the queen from having to make any more explanations. She turned swiftly to see John Darlian standing in the doorway.   
  
"Katrina..."  
  
"Don't. Just don't. Take her and get yourselves out of here."  
  
"Here you are, Senator," announced Gretchen in a low voice, holding out the fiercely squirming Relena. "Take this as well," she added, offering him the strap to a small gray bag. "There's fresh diapers, dry clothes and her favorite teddy bear in there..." The maidservant turned away, covering her face with her hands.  
  
"Mamaaaaa!" protested Relena, reaching out her chubby arms to Katrina. Hastily attempting to dry her face on the sleeve of her dressing gown, the queen stepped close to John and bestowed a quick kiss on her daughter's forehead.   
  
"Don't worry, baby. You'll have lots of fun with the Darlians...shhhh," she murmured, when the child began to whimper. "There's no need to cry."   
  
"I'd better go," John said, hoisting the bag Gretchen had given him over his shoulder. "Katrina," his voice trembled slightly. "You and Nathaniel... you take care of yourselves..."  
  
She threw her arms around him, as best she could with Relena's body wedged between them.   
  
"You too, John...and Hellen. Take good care of her for me...I'll..." She wanted to promise that she'd come fetch Relena if she could. She wanted to say that everything would be all right. But she hated lying.  
  
She couldn't watch as her old friend and her daughter disappeared through the nursery door.   
  
"Mama?"  
  
"Yes, Milliardo?"  
  
"Are you gonna die?"  
  
She spun to face him, shocked by the morbid candor suddenly exhibited by her young son. But looking him in the eye, Katrina could not bring herself to utter the words she knew he wanted to here.   
  
"Come, Milliardo," said Gretchen, lifting another small bag from the floor by her feet. "We must go."  
  
The child nodded, not taking his eyes off his mother.   
  
"Are you?"  
  
"I..."  
  
"Milliardo, we need to go now."  
  
Unable to hold his gaze any longer, Katrina turned away and began to walk toward the door. "You be good for Gretchen. Don't give her any trouble. Remember," she said, pausing by the door with one hand on the knob, "Your father and I both love you very much."  
  
Katrina stood there for a moment, taking what she feared would be her one last look at her son. He did not approach her, did not offer her a final embrace. Only a question.  
  
"If you love me, how come Father didn't come say goodbye?"  
  
Feeling as though she might be ill, the queen turned and fled.   
  
I have been blessed  
With so much more than I deserve  
To be here with the ones that love me  
To love them so much it hurts  
  
By four thirty the palace was surrounded. As the Alliance forces began to swarm through the arches, across the courtyards and lawns and up the stairs, Katrina felt distantly grateful that most of the servants had been able to flee. She stood beside Nathaniel on there balcony, watching with an odd feeling of detachment as uniformed men took up posts by the gates and among the gardens.   
  
"It won't take them long to find us," she commented, not looking at the king.  
  
"I know."  
  
"I can hear them. Shouting...they must have found some stragglers. What a shame...I had hoped they'd all manage to escape."  
  
"Katrina, why didn't you leave with the children?"  
  
"Because I'd be found almost immediately. It wouldn't have been worth it, and would only have resulted in an unnecessary risk for Milliardo and Relena."  
  
"I see."  
  
The first rays of dawn were beginning to lighten the eastern horizon, tinting the sky shades of intermingled pink and blue. It had rained the night before, and the birds were out early, singing in the treetops and on the lawns as they searched for insects. Cinc was beautiful, Katrina thought, but she couldn't bring herself to feel sad.   
  
Neither she nor Nathaniel noticed when the fire started. But when five Alliance soldiers burst through the door of the sitting room, they brought with them the acrid smell of burning upholstery.  
  
"You are under arrest," Shouted the man in front, leveling the barrel of the gun he carried at Katrina's chest. "Put your hands up and proceed to the courtyard immediately!"  
  
Katrina wanted to strike at them, to hurl something, anything-even if it was only the earthen pot sitting behind her on the balcony rail. Maybe she could cut one of the men, leave a scar, so that even when the others killed her she'd have the satisfaction of knowing she hadn't let them demolish her family without putting up a fight.   
  
But she refrained. Like Nathaniel, standing beside her, she raised her hands obediently and moved toward the door. The men fell in behind them, leaving them no option but to go forward. As she passed through there bedroom, Katrina caught sight of the rose-colored dressing gown her mother had given her, folded neatly at the foot of the bed. She had changed into a pale blue silk gown and arranged her hair. It was what her mother would have wanted. None of her deportment lessons had taught her the principle of dying with elegance, but she knew just the same.   
  
As they proceeded down the main stairway, Katrina found herself choking on the smoke. She couldn't see the flames, but she knew something must be burning. It was only when she reached the courtyard that she realized it was the east wing-the wing that had housed the nursery.   
  
Perhaps it was just as well. There would be no photographs left by which the children could be identified.  
  
They were directed to a corner of the courtyard far from the house, but the royal couple still coughed intermittently in an attempt to clear there lungs of the stench of the fire. Two men were set to guard them, and the rest recommenced there search for survivors or those fleeing the palace. Katrina could see that they'd caught several dozen people, women and children among them, who had all been herded together at the far end of the courtyard.  
  
"You should have gone," whispered Nathaniel, wrapping an arm about her shoulders.  
  
"No talking!" barked one of the guards, striking the side of the king's head with the butt of his weapon. Nathaniel reeled slightly and Katrina did her best to steady him.   
  
"Let him alone! Don't you fools know he won't fight y..." her words were cut off as the other guard delivered a forceful blow to her jaw...not enough to break it, but enough to render Katrina speechless for some moments.  
  
She slid to the flagstone surface of the courtyard, easing Nathaniel down with her. She wanted to do something, but could only sit and wait.   
  
"I know...I know you want to fight back." Nathaniel's voice was nerely inaudible, and the guards, whose attention had been momentarily distracted by the specticle of a middle-aged woman being dragged over to the croud of other prisoners, did not pay the king any heed.  
  
"I won't." she murmured, taking his hand. "I don't believe in pacifism-but I'm going to die anyway..shhh, yes we are, you know that." She kissed him swiftly, forestalling his feeble attempts to deny her words. "I didn't support your beliefs, and I didn't love you the way you wanted me to-but in this I won't shame you." She paused, searching for the words to explain. "The Cinc kingdom stood for total pacifism. If it's queen broke with that tradition when times got tough, it would destroy the symbol of what this country stood for. I couldn't win if I fought, but maybe-maybe we can win if we die like you wanted us to live."  
  
"Whore, I said no talking!" growled the guard who had struck Nathaniel, Raising his fist menacingly. The other man beat him to it, and delivered a series of stinging slaps to either side of her face. Nathaniel shifted slightly, offering her the protection of his shoulder. she took it greatfully, wrapping her arms about his waist. The blood that was oozing from the wound at the side of his head dripped down onto her hair, but she remained still, waiting.  
  
When the sun had finally crested the horizon, a tall man dressed in the uniform of an Alliance general strode into the courtyard. He paused for a moment, taking in the situation. Then, he gestured to a pair of soldiers with the gun he held in one hand.   
  
"Bring one of those prisoners over here-I don't care which one, just get one. Good. Now, you two," he gestured at the men guarding Katrina and Nathaniel, "bring those two up here. I want them to have a good view of everything that's going to happen next."  
  
Rising unsteadily, the royal couple allowed themselves to be led to the edge of one of the small reflecting pools halfway between the gate and the palace steps. Still with her arm around Nathaniel, Katrina sat down on the stone wall surrounding the shallow pool, willing her knees to stop trembling. She had an idea of what was about to happen, and every fiber of her being was screaming at her to do something to make it stop.  
  
"Good morning, your Highnesses!" said the general, his hard gray eyes mocking. "Today, for your entertainment I would like to present a little production we call, the absolute failure of pacifism. I do hope you enjoy it." With that, the general motioned to the two uniformed men to bring their prisoner forward. It was a woman, and Katrina vaguely recognized her as the servant who had brought her the news of Maria's death some two years earlier.   
  
The thick smoke obscured her view somewhat, but not enough for her to miss the signal the general gave, or the sight of the woman's body slumping to the ground, blood pouring from a wound in her chest to quickly form a slippery coating on the flagstones.  
  
Neither she nor Nathaniel moved or made a sound. There was no need. As one by one the frightened prisoners, even the children, were dragged up and executed, Katrina felt the cool hand of shock begin to wrap around her heart. What had before been numbness was now becoming the complete absence of awareness. Some of the faces she recognized-many of the condemned men and women had been servants in the palace. Their pleas for mercy and whimpers of terror began to merge in her ears, until they were one long, continuous stream of pain filled noise. Glancing at Nathaniel, she could see that the situation was having the same effect on him.   
  
Finally, there were no more prisoners. A large pile of bodies had formed beside the steps, which were slick with blood. Katrina thought vaguely that such massacres as this must be prohibited somewhere, in some set of international laws, but the idea slid through her mind without her actually registering it.   
  
It wouldn't matter, after all.  
  
"Well, your Highnesses, I hope you liked our little show. King Nathaniel, I have one more delightful performance to offer you this morning." The general smirked, tapping the butt of his rifle against his thigh. Before Katrina knew precisely what was happening, the two men who had served as henchmen for the past half hour were at her elbows, gripping her firmly, leading her inexorably toward the blood drenched steps. Then she was looking out over the courtyard, with it's aged flagstones bathed in sunshine. Through the smoke that still rose from the east wing she could see that the sky was a brilliant blue, with small white clouds scudding along briskly ahead of the summer breeze. She saw the mountains in the distance, there peaks still tinted pink and gold by the light of the rising son. And Nathaniel was there, seated on the edge of the pool, his hair and beard matted with blood. He was watching her as though she were a complete stranger, yet his eyes held a mute apology.   
  
"Nathaniel I..."   
  
But the words she had planned to say were rendered eternally inaudible by the sound of a gunshot.  
  
I have been blessed  
  
  
------------*END*------------  
  
Whew. This one took me a couple of weeks. I'm really quite proud of it though, so I'd really appreciate feedback. It was hard for me to decide on the way I wanted to portray each character, so I sort of just started writing in the hopes that they'd portray themselves. I hope I did a fairly good job.  
  
I picked this songe because it would both match and completely contradict the story. I was sort of going for a Scarlet O'Hara type with Katrina, and I thought "Blessed" would be great for emphasizing her selfishness and her goodness. I wanted her to be worldly, but not very wise, if that makes any sense.  
  
I personally prefer Lady Dan'ts Katrina, because she's a good deal nicer than mine. But this vesion of the character just wouldn't go away, and I've grown to sort of like her.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, and "Blessed" belongs to Martina Mc'Bride. Now leave me alone!  
  
Please Review...I worked hard on this one. Thank you to those of you who faithfully review each and every one of my fics...you guys really ought to get a prize. Here, have a cyberhug instead.  
  
Domo Arrigato,  
Lady Akemi 


End file.
